A Few Stolen Hours
by OrchisAilsa
Summary: Set between The Angels Take Manhattan and The Snowmen. The Doctor and River, weary from their ordeal in New York, visit London for some comfort food, and unexpectedly encounter one Miss Rose Tyler. A study on healing, loss, and these women who devoted their lives to loving the Doctor. This is an Eleven/Rose story, with River/Eleven referenced occasionally throughout. Very M.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This was supposed to be a short one-shot, but it got a little out of control. The second half is well on its way to being complete, so I hope not to keep you gorgeous readers waiting too long. ;-)**

**Set after _The Angels Take Manhattan_ (****Spoilers, sweetie)**, but before _The Snowmen_. Featuring an extra-broody Eleven, a meddling, good-intentioned River Song, and Rose, being Rose. 

**Enjoy.**

**O.A.**

* * *

In retrospect it made perfect sense that she was there. It was obviously the Doctor's favorite chip shop in London for a reason. But at the time, River was so shocked, she could barely speak.

She had been sitting alone at a table, physically and emotionally drained in the wake of their ill-fated trip to Manhattan and the heartbreaking loss of her parents, lost in thoughts and memories and fears. They had spent more than a month in the TARDIS together since then, sequestered from all of time and space, each finding what comfort they could in the other's arms, taking solace in their shared anguish. River drafted the novel she had to write, and the Doctor and the TARDIS began to remodel.

Now that they had emerged, River was pondering the wonderful gift of the fact that it seemed like they had almost been in sync, for once, and how blissful it had been to love and live together with almost no secrets, no "spoilers," for a brief time. She had been seeing younger and younger versions of him more frequently of late, and she worried that their time together must be growing shorter.  
As she sat lost in her thoughts, the Doctor was at the counter purchasing them some much-needed comfort food, and so she was startled out of her daydreams by the sound of a female voice.

"Are you using that vinegar, there?" the voice had asked, and River shook her head as she passed the bottle, glancing up to smile at the stranger as she did so. And then she'd almost dropped the bottle on the floor as she found herself staring into the open, earnest face of Rose Tyler.

"Y'allright?" Rose asked, and River realized she'd been staring, slack jawed, for at least ten seconds. The question jump started her brain, and River reached behind her, grabbing her bag as she stood.

"Quite. Only I was just leaving. If you'll excuse me."

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked as quickly as she could towards the counter where the Doctor had been completing his purchase. Not quickly enough. He was walking towards her.

"Out." she snapped at him, praying he wouldn't see.

"River, whats wrong?" he asked with concern on his face, continuing to approach. "What happened?"

"You great, bloody idiot," she snapped. "Did you even think to check the Time Zones when we landed?" She pushed him towards the door, and slapped him on the chest for good measure.

"Oi! Stop it, River. Of course I did! What are you going on about? It's a balmy night in London, May, Two-Thousand-Twel-" And he stopped abruptly, a strangled noise catching in the back of his throat. He'd seen her.

"Two-thousand-six." River hissed, gesturing towards the yellowed calendar on the wall behind the counter. "I swear. It's like you enjoy ripping time and space apart with paradoxes."

But the Doctor didn't answer, because Rose, who had heard River's last remark, was walking towards him, with a look of curiosity on her face.

"You... you're..." she looked unsure as she looked up into this unfamiliar face, but River was certain that deep down, Rose knew exactly whose eyes she was gazing into. She would always know, just like River would.

The Doctor nodded, swallowing thickly. She stepped closer.

"You're different... again," she stated softly, reaching a curious hand towards his face.

He stepped back suddenly, alarmed, and shook his head as though trying to shake off a bad dream. He looked up at River, running a nervous hand through his hair, and the conflict and panic in his eyes nearly broke her heart.

"Shouldn't. Crossing my own time line. Never a good plan. Gets so messy. Can't risk a paradox," he rambled, and then fled the shop, leaving the chips behind.

Rose looked bewildered and upset. She turned to River, and asked "Why? Why would he run from me? What just happened?"

River sighed, searching her mind for an answer, any truthful answer she would be allowed to give, that wouldn't give Rose a taste of the tragedy in her future.

"It's been 200 years, for him, since he last saw you, Rose," she finally replied. It was enough.

Rose, of all people, understood. The Doctor would outlive them all, in the end. And the heartbreak she felt for his loneliness was plain on her face. The tears that welled up in the young woman's eyes caused River's own to start stinging.

"You should follow him," Rose whispered roughly as she looked at the floor.

River nodded. "Yes."

Rose nodded too, a little too vigorously. She wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand, then turned to look at the door he'd just run through.

"Go on, then," she whispered, in a broken voice. "He shouldn't be alone."

And River took a breath, and made a choice. To hell with paradox. They'd handled worse.

"You're right. He shouldn't. Let's go."

"What?" Rose looked up at her sharply. "But he said- He'd be furious. He'll go bonkers. I know how this works. We can't, can we?"

River laughed aloud as she watched Rose go through the motions of attempting to behave and follow the Doctor's rules. The words she was saying were right, but the tone was all wrong, and the hope in her eyes gave her intentions away.

River grinned recklessly and extended her hand. "I heard a rumor once that the universe hasn't come up with a paradox yet, nasty enough to keep Rose Tyler from the Doctor."

The two women shared a complicit smile.

"Who are you?" Rose asked, laughing at River's cavalier demeanor as she took River's hand and shook it. "You seem to know an awful lot about me."

"River. River Song."

"Nice to meet you, River Song."

* * *

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped, from the top of the staircase in the console room. He glowered at River as she ushered a wide-eyed Rose into a console room she'd never seen. One day, River's meddling was going to get someone killed.

River looked him over, unimpressed, and put her hands on her hips as she replied, "I do as I damn well please, Doctor, I should think you'd be accustomed to that by now. You should stop sulking and apologize to Ms. Tyler. You've upset her."

"She shouldn't be here."

"Oh, shouldn't I?" Rose interrupted, raising an eyebrow. River smirked and the Doctor felt the urge to break something. He clenched his fists.

"No, Rose, you shouldn't," he said to Rose herself, hating himself even as he spoke for the way the hurt showed in her eyes.

"Who says?" she lifted her chin, defiantly.

"Well, for starters, it never happened-" he began.

"Who says?" Rose repeated. "You wouldn't know, would you? Because I just decided I'm never going to tell you."

The Doctor stared at her with his mouth open, and River smiled in delight.

He sighed. These women...

"I said 2012," he hissed, eyes closed, addressing the TARDIS scornfully, kicking the railing. The lights flickered disapprovingly.

The Doctor turned back to Rose.

"When are we?" he asked her quietly. "And where am I?"

"We... just left... the planet, with the black hole. Those Ood things. It was... rough."

Nodding, he sighed. Rough didn't even begin to describe it.

"You're angry," she said. "The proper- I mean the other you. You brought me home, and told us you'd come pick me up after the weekend. You- you're so sad, though. And you won't tell me what's wrong. I'm sort of worried you won't come back."

He nodded silently, remembering the misery he'd been in back then, the paranoia and panic he'd felt after that beast had told him Rose was going to die. He hadn't wanted to ask her to shoulder more of his pain, and he hadn't wanted to scare her. But he also hadn't been able to look at her without thinking that she was just a frail human, and that he would never be able to protect her... and now his stomach clenched with the knowledge of how right he'd been about that.

"You... are you coming back?" Rose asked with a desperate tremor in her voice.

The Doctor looked at the anxiety and fear in her big, brown eyes, and felt the last of his resolve crumble. He flew down the stairs and caught Rose in his arms, burying his face in her hair as tears welled up in his own eyes.

"Rose Tyler, I could never stand to stay away," he whispered, breathing in the scent of her, which he never thought he'd smell again.

"Quite right," River agreed steadily as she walked towards them. And then she leaned close to the Doctor's ear and murmured softly in Gallifreyan, _"And tonight, you shouldn't._"

The Doctor let Rose go as he turned slowly to face River.

"_What exactly are you insinuating?"_ he asked warningly in the same language.

_"I should think that's quite obvious."_

_"Don't be ridiculous."_

_"She wants this."_

_"River. Stop."_

_"You want it too."_

_"River Song I swear to you-"_

_"And I want it for you, my love."_

To that, he had no reply. He just stared at her, fuming, until Rose stepped between them.

"I don't understand you when you're talking," she observed with curiosity.

"The TARDIS doesn't translate Gallifreyan," the Doctor explained testily.

"You speak Gallifreyan?" Rose looked at River with raised eyebrows. "Who, exactly, are you?"

River smiled, "Depends on who you ask."

"It doesn't matter anyway because Doctor Song was just-"

"Just explaining that he should act like he possesses even half of the wit and wisdom he claims, and take you to bed."

Rose flushed as red as her namesake and her eyes flew open wide.

"What? I- Doctor... What?"

The Doctor's eyes went dark, and he grabbed River by the wrist.

"Enough." he spat, pulling the sonic screwdriver from his pocket and holding it against her vortex manipulator. "I'll deal with you later."

River met his eyes briefly in a silent challenge before turning to Rose.

"Rule one. The Doctor lies. He needs this as much as y-"

And with that, she was gone.

Rose and the Doctor stood in awkward silence for a long moment, him fidgeting and fiddling with his tie, and she as still as a frightened mouse. They made eye contact almost by accident and the Doctor felt a jolt in the pit of his stomach at the sight of those gorgeous eyes that he'd lost so many years ago. He looked away again, quickly, so he felt, rather than watched, her approach.

"Don't wander off," she whispered, conspiratorially.

"What?" he asked, raising his eyes again to find her smiling up at him.

"Rule one. You told me, 'rule one: don't wander off.' At least that was rule one when I met you."

He gave her a fond half smile, and the tension broke.

"Yes, well," he replied, trying and failing to look stern, "It's a pity to have a rule one that no one ever pays attention to, isn't it? If you ever learned that rule it wasn't on my watch, Rose Tyler. And you, the most jeopardy-friendly creature in the universe."

He managed to hold her gaze for a full eight seconds before they both dissolved into hysterical peels of laughter and sank to their knees in the console room.

"Rose..." he groaned, when they recovered, gathering her into his arms. She curled up against his chest instantly, and he marveled at how small she felt against this newer, taller body, and yet how she still had the flavor of "home" abut her.

She turned her face up and smiled that smile, and snaked her hand into his hair as she began to draw his face down towards hers.

When he resisted, sadness pierced the warm glow of her gaze.

She dropped her arm and shifted to put some space between them.

"I'm sorry. River made it seem like... I'm sorry." she whispered.

So sincere, so devoted. He shook his head, closing his eyes, because the sight of her was too painful.

"Doctor... please. What's wrong?"

He pulled her head down to his shoulder so he wouldn't have to see her eyes, and clung to her so tight he felt certain he must be hurting her.

"It's really been two hundred years?" she breathed.

"Yeah..." he breathed into her hair. "It has. It's been more, really. I'm an old man, Rose."

"You're hurting," she said. It wasn't a question. "Tell me why?"

"Oh, don't you worry about me. I'm fine," he mumbled.

"The Doctor lies..." she rebutted.

He glared at her and started to pull away. She grabbed his face between her palms and said fiercely, "Oi. Don't wander off."

Then she dropped her hands and just looked at him, waiting.

And a dam inside him broke, It all came flooding out- Amy, the girl who waited, Rory the Roman, Weeping Angels and New York City... the agonizing loss of his beloved Ponds.

And she listened to it all, her soulful eyes glassy with tears as he explained those last few, agonizing moments.

"...because, in the end she had already made her choice. And it would have been wrong to keep her from him. But... how am I supposed to go on again? I know I will. I always do, I suppose. But, Rose... I'm just... so... tired."

She was sitting cross legged and leaned forward to brush an errant lock of hair from his forehead. This time he didn't push her away.

"Doctor, look at me," she whispered.

He slowly, reluctantly raised his eyes to hers.

She opened her mouth as though to speak, as though to offer words of benediction or comfort. But no words came, and she closed it again. There were no magic words to make it better, no real way to fix the things that were wrong.

And so they sat there for a moment, frozen in place, with her hand along the edge of his hairline, staring into each other's eyes.

"Rose..." he whispered, in agony. Her presence stirred up an ocean of regret, sadness, and longing.

"Doctor... please... Whatever you want. whatever you need."

"Rose, what I want right now is impossible. I can't keep you with me. I can't steal you from myself. If I had come back for you, back then, and you'd been gone..." he trailed off ominously.

"You won't be looking for me tonight," she said in a voice so soft he could barely hear her. But then her voice grew stronger. "You're off hurting somewhere, alone. And you're daft if you think I'm going to let two of you in one day leave me behind, worried, just so you can have a good sulk. Doctor. Let me help you."

She laid her other hand on his arm, moved just a few inches closer. He could smell the scent of her skin, feel her warmth begging to thaw his heart, longing to fill the emptiness inside him. He simply didn't have the strength to push her away. And so, he kissed her.

* * *

**I know, I know. That's an evil place to cut it. But Moffat gives you agonizing cliffhangers all the time, and you keep coming back for more. So I know you're masochists, every one of you.**

**Reviews make me smile! 3**

**See you soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi there. Here's part 2 (of 3, I think... maybe 4). Enjoy... O.A. :-D**

* * *

The kiss was rough and untutored, and too urgent to be gentle. The Doctor was awkward, as he often seemed to be, in this body, and had no finesse. But once he tasted her lips he was like a man crazed and dying of thirst, and she was the only thing that could slake it.

Rose seemed unfazed by his lack of grace and she gave as good as she got, pulling at his bow tie, tearing at his shirt, and raking her nails over his chest hard enough to leave marks through the fabric as he plundered her mouth with his own, his fists full of her silky blond hair.

By the time she pulled away, gasping for air, her hoodie was on the ground and his shirt was half untucked with two buttons missing. Her eyes were so dark they were almost black, and the whole console room felt warmer.

"Tonight," she declared, in a voice that only barely shook. "We can have tonight." The uncertainty was gone from her face, now that she could see how badly he wanted her here with him.

"Tonight I am yours," she continued, "and tonight you are mine. This you. The one that needs me."

He chuckled at that, but it wasn't a happy sound.

"You have never met a 'me' who doesn't need you, Rose," he muttered.

Her smile was bittersweet.

What the hell did he think he was doing? This was madness to even consider. There was no way this could end without heartbreak.

He stood still, brows drawn together, knowing he shouldn't entertain this madness, because the joy of the moment would only be overshadowed by the misery of losing her again, but he was unable to walk away. Especially as she began to walk towards him, holding his gaze and stripping her clothes slowly as she approached.

He shook his head as she came closer, but she didn't stop. She had his number now. She knew his resistance was not based on any sort of world-shattering paradox, but only in fear of feeling too much.

And suddenly she was close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off of her skin.

"Touch me, Doctor," she whispered in his ear when she was left in nothing but her underthings.

She finished unbuttoning his shirt and shoved it off of his shoulders along with his braces. She pulled his undershirt over his head, slowly, gently while he stood trembling on the spot.

Even still, he couldn't make himself surrender to her.

"Rose, you know that I'm different. You know Time Lords don't care about things like... snogging. This can't mean the same things to me that it means to you."

He wasn't lying, precisely. Sex had never been a huge drive for him, over the years. And it did hold much more interest for humans. But what he didn't want to admit was that this body was young and fit, even younger than his prior one, and had all the inclinations of a young and fit man (who had learned a lot of exceptionally creative uses for his body from his mad, dangerous, delicious psychopath of a wife). Humans, moreover, of Rose's time and place, often assigned great emotional significance to the act of sex. And that... The feeling of belonging. The feeling of being loved, not because you'd saved a planet from Daleks, but just becaue you were you, and someone thought you were worth it... That on its own was seductive enough to paralyze him where he stood.

And so he couldn't actually look Rose in the face and deny that he wanted her. But he couldn't make himself reach out for her. And so he stood still.

Next she discarded her panties, bra. His breath caught in her throat as she stood naked before him, completely unselfconscious and open and comfortable in her skin.

"I don't know about the Time Lords' rules on snogging. But I know you're terrible at being a proper Time Lord," she replied to his protest, ghosting a hand over the bulge in his trousers that bellied his dismissive words. "You always have been."

He turned away and closed his eyes.

Finally she sighed, turning his head to face her with gentle fingers and looking up into his face.

"Doctor. If this is the last night you ever see me, ever, in all of time and space, is this really how you want to spend it? Being sad and miserable? Is that truly better than letting me lo-" She cut herself of abruptly and choked down the word, and his hearts pounded in the empty space where it echoed anyway.

He knew, of course. All of time and space knew how much she loved him. And though he'd never be able to say it, she should know he'd love her until the end of the universe.

But he realized she wasn't sure about that. She wasn't even totally certain he'd come back for her in the morning. And now she was about to cry. Because of him. Again. He cursed to himself. Exactly how many times was he meant to break this woman's heart?

He thought of Daleks and Cybermen. Canary Wharf. He thought of time and space collapsing and stars going out and that moment in the middle of it, when he'd realized how completely she still owned his hearts, because he couldn't even bring himself to care that reality was crumbling when it meant that she was finally living and breathing in front of him again. He recalled the second of their impossibly heartbreaking conversations at Bad Wolf Bay, seething with jealousy as he watched a man who wore his face looking into her eyes and promising to live out "the one adventure he could never have." He thought of every hurt and pain and sadness he had endured, that she had yet to bear.

And then he thought of River, mad, wonderful, infuriating River, who had come so suddenly into his world and consistently turned it on its ear. Who mystified him and exasperated him and inspired him and who made him remember what it was like to have peers instead of disciples. River, his wife who loved him too much to be possessive with him, or jealous of his past, in whose eyes he could see as much love as in Rose's, and who he'd sent away in anger, simply because she'd been trying to give him a moment of happiness.

And then he looked up at River's gift, at Rose's gift, at the warm, beautiful, naked body of the woman in front of him, who loved him beyond reason, no matter whose face he wore, who had swallowed the time vortex to save his life, who would soon bend the rules of reality to find him from another world, and he smiled, and he made his choice.

He could not bear to make her cry. Not this time.

He had mourned Rose twice already, and he would mourn her again tomorrow. But not tonight. As Rose herself had pointed out, tonight was a gift, and he would not allow himself to squander it.

He sighed heavily.

"No," he said, finally, leaning forward and gently kissing her head where her brows knit together.

She let out a breath she had been holding. "No?"

Her eyes were full of fear at his ambiguity, the fear that he was refusing her, and turning away.

"No, it isn't better to be miserable, he clarified softly, sliding one hand into her hair and turning her face up towards him, "and you're quite right. If i get to have these few hours with you, which I never thought I would ever have again, I think there are much better ways we could be spending our time."

She laughed with relief and it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

He kissed her slowly, deliberately, and with much more intention than before. He nibbled on her lip and traced her mouth with his tongue. He reveled in the taste of her, tried to lose himself in the scent of her shampoo. He kissed her with all the passion he felt that could never have a voice, willing her to feel and understand how much she meant to him, his pink and yellow Rose.

When he pulled away she sighed in appreciation, her eyes dark and heavy lidded with lust, and she was smiling that smile... the one with her tongue playing between her teeth.

He, far from unaffected by the kiss, found his mind bombarded with images of all the better uses he could find for that insolent tongue.

She unzipped his trousers, as though reading his mind, and stepped back, waiting.

He toed off his shoes, and took a step towards the corridor, the smile on his face growing with the hunger in his eyes.

"Come along, Tyler," he beckoned her with a smirk, then extended his hand. She took it, and he closed his fingers tight around hers, memorizing the feel of her hand in this new one of his.

She stepped closer and closed the distance between them.

"Allons-y," she said, grinning.

And they took off running as fast as they could down the hallway.

When they reached the door to his bedroom he slammed her against it hard, pinning her arms above her head and pillaging her mouth with his while she whimpered and squirmed against him.

"impatient," he accused.

"We don't have much time," she countered. "And you're still wearing trousers."

"We have hours."

"How many?"

"Seven hours and eleven minutes, til your mum's alarm rings," he told her.

_Not nearly long enough_, he thought.

The feral sound she made in her throat told him she felt the same way he did.

He opened the door, catching her in his arms effortlessly and pitching her onto the bed.

"Now," he grinned, "You mentioned something about trousers?"

He was roguishly disheveled as he stood in front of her and slid out of his slacks and pants, moving suddenly slower and putting on a show just to make her wait. She licked her lips and his cock throbbed.

"Rose-" he began, but was cut off by the mind-melting sensation of his cock disappearing into the hot, hungry heat of her mouth, as she crawled forward and took his whole length.

She devoured him as though she needed his flesh to breathe, greedy and impatient. At one moment she took too much too fast and nearly choked as his cock reached the back of her throat. He saw stars, and in that moment he would have sworn that in a thousand years of living he had never once known anything so erotic as the sight of her eyes stinging with tears an causing her mascara to run as she fought to swallow him to the root.

He felt his knees turn to liquid and let loose a string of expletives in Gallifreyan that would have made him blush if he hadn't been the one to utter them.

Rose released his cock, gasping for air, and smiled up at him with red, swollen lips.

"I've always wanted to do that," she confessed, pulling him down onto the bed before he could regain his balance.

"Have you?" he gasped, trying to pull together some semblance of self control even as his prick ached in protest at the absence of her mouth.

"Since... the end of the world. Our first date."

The sincerity in her eyes was more than he could bear.

"Rose, Rose, Rose... " he breathed, pulling her closer to him and reaching up to cup a breast in his hand. She resisted.

"No," she chastised with a cheeky grin. "Uh-uh."

"No?" He repeated, confused.

"Not until after you come. I want to taste it..."

Her face was playful, full of mischief.

His cock swelled to bursting at the sound of those filthy words on his precious Rose's lips. She wouldn't have to wait long for her wish if she kept talking like that.

"I... But... After? I... I will be useless. No good to you."

"You'll have time to recover. How long have we got?" She asked, ignoring his protests.

"Six hours and 46 minutes."

"Better get to it, then."

And with that she kissed her way down his body, raking her nails lightly down his ribs and hips, digging her fingers into the firm flesh of his arse and humming with pleasure as she bent over him and tasted him again.

She fisted one hand around the base of his cock and pumped slowly as she swirled her tongue around the engorged head, lapping at the drops of fluid as they appeared there. She set a smooth, rhythmic pace that hypnotized him as it threatened to drive him mad.

"Oh Doctor," she breathed, gazing up at him, "you taste amazing."

And that was his undoing. He came as hard as he ever had, babbling incoherently in six languages.

When he came back to himself, she was smiling and running her fingertips over his chest.

And then it was her turn.

He tumbled her over and pinned her down with his deceptively strong arms. Then he kissed her for a long, long time. He raked his nails lightly over every inch of her, delighting in her noises of desperation and waiting as long as he could stand to give in and taste her.

He bent his head to her nipples and kissed them gently, suckled them, and nibbled on them until she cried out in desperation.

He crawled down her body reverently and moved to her core. Gently, he kissed her there... and the sweet, earthy scent of her, bursting with pheromones, combined with her gasps and pleas of, "God, Doctor, now, yes!" had him growing hard again before he knew it.

He reveled in the flavor of her, and marveled at the slickness that met his fingers when he reached up to touch her.

She gasped and cried and he felt like a god. His entire world narrowed to giving this woman a hint of the joy and wonder she deserved in her life.

So singleminded was he that he actually, for a moment, lost track of time. Suddenly her orgasm overtook her, surprising him, and she cried out under his body, shuddering and sobbing, and dragged him up her body for a fierce kiss.

"How long now l?" She gasped.

"Six hours and four minutes."

She nodded solemnly.

"Doctor," she said in a low, heavy voice that was almost a growl. "Fuck me. Now."

He had never felt so like an animal. He moved over her, placing a hand on either side of her shoulders and pausing for a moment to take in her flushed cheeks and damp hair, and to get control over his body.

She was having none of that. She grabbed the base of his cock, now fully hard again, and rolled her hips up until the tip of it grazed the wet heat of her.

"Right. Now," she demanded, digging her nails into his arm.

And with that he lost control. He surged forward with an animalistic growl, driving into her as hard as he could on the first thrust.

He was afraid for a moment that he had harmed her, but she moaned softly in pleasure and whispered, "Yesssss," raising her legs to wrap them around his hips and draw him close against her.

"Like this?" He asked, wanting to be sure.

Her eyes flashed. "Harder," she challenged him. "I want to feel this for days, and think of you."

"Rose..."

"I've been yours since day one, Doctor. All yours. You aren't going to hurt me. I want you. I want this."

And because he knew it was utterly true, he gave her what she wanted. He leaned down and kissed her hard as he resumed his thrusting, deep and rough and not at all the sort of loving that his beautiful Rose deserved. But she had asked for it, and he was helpless to do anything but grant it to her. And so he fucked her as hard as he could and poured into each driving thrust the desperation, the longing, and the joy that he felt when he thought of their time together.

He felt a surge of wonder as she came. Like everything else, she did it with abandon, crying out with her head thrown back in surrender to the sensations.

Afterwards she was even wetter, more sensitive, more responsive, and her mews and gasps increased, breathy and urgent. The sound of her voice fed his own lust and he drove into her faster, reveling in the sight and the sound and the feel of his beautiful Rose.

His orgasm felt like it was ripped from his body, tied to all of the desperate emotions he felt. And she cried out with him, eyes rapt and she took in the sight of his climax.

They collapsed next to each other on the bed, each facing the other as she gasped for air and he (not winded, because of his respiratory bypass) brushed the damp hair out of both of their faces.

"Well, Rose Tyler," he said with a languid smile. "That was..."

"Fantastic," she sighed, smiling with her tongue between her teeth.


	3. Chapter 3

When she came back to herself he was gazing down at her, propped up on one elbow with his eyes soft and glittering, looking just a tad pleased with himself.

"Cup of tea?" He suggested, tensing slightly when at last she stirred from her languor, "Or... or... Um... How about a Kiwi banana milkshake?"

"Water, please," Rose replied, grinning and stretching and running her fingers through her tangled hair.

He reached out to help her stand and he seemed tentative, almost shy, as though he didn't know how to behave now that they had taken this step. She took his hand, smiling up at him warmly, radiating reassurance. And the two of them stood and padded into the corridor, flushed and naked, hand in hand, leaving a tangle of bedding and the thick scent of sex behind them.

He came to stand behind her and ghost a hand along the curve of her body, from breast to hip.

"Ai!" She squeaked.

He had startled her caused her to slosh icy water out of her glass.

She leaned back into him and set down the glass, as though she was custom made to fit against him. And perhaps she was. He hummed in soft approval at the contact and wrapped his arms snugly around her.

"You're so different now," she murmured, turning in his arms to face him. " This you, I mean. You're softer. Warmer. Sillier."

Sadder. Lonelier. More broken.

"You've changed a lot in two years, Rose," he replied, weariness creeping once again into his voice. "I've had 200."

She opened her mouth to speak again but he couldn't bear to hear any words of comfort, and so he silenced her with a desperate, almost violent kiss.

His mercurial mood swings didn't seem to faze her. If anything, her own passion seemed to grow with the harsh contact. She bit at his lips and pulled at his hair as he claimed her mouth with his own, and before long they had worked themselves into a frenzy of desperation.

Bent over the kitchen table he had his way with her again, pulling at her hair and driving fast and hard into her, drunk on Rose Tyler as she moaned and thrust her hips back into his and teased her own sex with her fingers until she whimpered and cried out again.

"Mine." He growled in her ear.

"Yours," she vowed, gasping as his hips jerked forward into hers.

The Doctor had never allowed himself to feel this way before, so utterly possessive of any living being.

Yes, he had known passion, even in this body. He came to each of his trysts with River with a sense of wonder, and delighted in how different they all were. He met her with awe and intrigue when she was the older one, tender patience when she was younger, and when their timelines matched up their passion was joyful, playful and exhilarating. He savored every one of the finite seconds they had to spend together. But River was not "his." he could no more conceive of possessing River than he could imagine putting a leash on the time vortex, or trapping light in a bottle. It was unthinkable, to try and rein in such a wild spirit, and he adored her for it.

But Rose... She was his, entirely and without hesitation, no matter what face he wore, no matter how much he tried to stay away, no matter how many reservations he expressed. And he wanted her. And he needed her. And a certain part of him would always be lost without her. And so with his body he tried to claim her, like an animal. Mark her thoroughly as his own, as though doing so could keep her with him longer. He knew it was futile, but he couldn't help himself.

And so he fucked her harder, and harder, and lost himself in the physicality, and when he came there was a supernova behind his eyelids. She called out for her Doctor and he was alarmed to realize that he didn't know in that second whether she was crying out in pleasure or pain.

"Are you okay?" He whispered hoarsely when he found his words.

She nodded, smiling blissfully. But when she moved to stand straight she winced, almost imperceptibly.

_Both pleasure and pain, then, _he thought. _Makes sense. With us, isn't it always both?_

He gathered her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

"Oh Rose," he whispered. She sighed and wrapped her arms around him.

Then, beverages forgotten, he picked her up, carried her to a bathroom, turned on the shower and began to wash her as carefully and gently as if she were made of glass. He lathered her hair in shampoo and massaged her scalp with his fingers.

"You're so good at that," she sighed.

He chuckled. "Your hair is so much less snarly than-" he stopped abruptly.

"Than River's?" she asked knowingly.

He looked away. How could he be speaking of River at a time like this?

"You care a lot about her," Rose observed.

_I do, _he admitted to himself. _She's the first one to make me feel alive since you. _

Unable to say the words aloud, he nodded. He didn't look up until her silence stretched on and his curiosity made him glance at her face.

Rose was studying him in the steam of the bath, with eyes that were both happy and sad at once.

"Tell her thank you," she whispered.

He felt tears spring to his eyes at her words. No jealousy. No bile. Just the steady compassion she felt for another woman who knew all it meant to love the Doctor.

He didn't deserve either of them.

The Doctor climbed out of the shower, wrapped her in a thick, fluffy towel, sank to the ground with her in his arms, and held her for a long, long time.

* * *

"How long now?" She whispered as they sat outside with their backs against the TARDIS' door and gazed up at the stars.

"Three hours and twenty seven minutes," he whispered.

She stood and took his hand.

"Let's go for a walk."

"Where to?" He asked.

"Inside. Show me how she looks these days."

They roamed the halls and he took her through the corridors to secret rooms and tiny passageways, filling her ears with tales and trivia about a thousand planets and races and people.

Rose laughed and asked questions and sighed in awe, and as the Doctor looked at his long, tangled life through her wondrous eyes, he wished this night could last forever.

"What does that say?" Rose asked softly, pointing at a series of golden symbols written in high Gallifreyan on the ceiling of his favorite sitting room, where they had laid down on the carpet in front of the fire. It was, along with his bedroom, one of the only rooms that had never been affected by the TARDIS' "redecorating" whims.

He looked where she was pointing and felt a pang in his hearts.

"That says, 'Arkytior,'" he whispered into her hair, drawing her tighter against him.

"Hm? What's that mean?" she asked, sleepily, not raising her head from his chest.

"It's Gallifrean," he explained, "for 'rose.' Well... For a flower on Gallifrey that looked just like a rose."

She looked up and smiled broadly at him. "That's me."

He kissed the top of her head.

"So it is. But this room was here long before you, Rose Tyler. Arkytior was my granddaughter's name. Her real name, though she rarely used it. She was the first one to ever travel with me. We left Gallifrey together. She loved this room."

And she'd been the first to leave him. He'd left his dear Arkytior, his little Susan, hundreds and hundreds of years ago and a hundred years in the future, with the hope of a better life for a young woman in love, but he still felt the loss of her more keenly than most. He'd been better at Goodbyes then. Less bitter. Excited by the universe. Not like today. He sighed wearily.

He had seen her once, since then, and it had been as glorious as it was heartbreaking. Not unlike tonight.

In the years since their chance meeting he had avoided checking in on her, avoided going back to that war-torn moment on earth where she had once found love. She was probably lost to him forever; he knew she'd played her part in the Time War, same as all of them.

But he had never checked to be sure. As long as he didn't check, he could keep up the fantasy that she was still alive. And he didn't want to know the truth if it was different.

He was a coward. And he had already said that particular goodbye. Twice.

But what about today? How many times and in how many bodies was he supposed to endure telling this Rose, "Goodbye, forever"?

He suddenly felt too empty for tears.

"Please don't go away," she whispered, frowning at his remote expression. "Stay with me just a little while longer."

"Two hours and twelve minutes," he whispered, closing his eyes .

She ran her hands all over his body, causing his skin to tingle, and raked her nails delicately along the sensitized skin of his cock and balls until he felt it begin to swell again. Her hands moved slowly, languorously, but firmly, and despite all of their exertions earlier in the evening he soon found himself hard again under her attentions. She gripped his length tightly and he groaned. She hummed contentedly at the hard, hot weight of it in her hands, and in time she slowly moved on top of him.

His hands came up to grip her hips as she positioned herself over him. She paused and met his eyes, holding his gaze as she impaled herself and took him inside of her.

She moaned in pleasure as he filled her, and leaned forward to kiss him softly as she began to rock. They stayed there, rocking slowly against each other, foreheads almost touching, immersed in the sounds of their own breathing and the heady scent of sex that suffused the air around them.

"Rose, you spectacular creature," he whispered as she started to speed up her motions a tiny bit, and he suspected that she was creeping towards her orgasm, "you have no idea how beautiful you are to me."

She moaned and gripped his body with her legs as she sped up a little more, grinding against him and pulling his needy cock deeper into her. Oh, she was close.

"Shhhh, Rose. Don't rush it," he whispered, cupping her face with his hand and brushing her cheek with his thumb. "Wait for me. I want to come with you, Rose. Wait just a little while longer."

Her inner walls fluttered against him. He could tell she wanted to wait, but she was not sure she could hold out.

"I'll try," she whispered, looking down at him and biting her lip as she attempted to get her body under control. His cock grew even harder at that, at the sight of her squirming as she tried to comply. She would do anything he ever asked of her. Always.

He thrust up into her and she cried out, sitting up straight as he moved within her. She was glowing with sweat, pink and warm, and her hair was a tousled mess as she threw back her head and gasped for breath.

"Doctor, please," she begged.

"Please?" He asked, setting a sharp, fast pace as he gripped her hips hard enough to bruise her as he held her in place.

"Please. Need to come. Please."

Her begging caused the heat to pool in the pit of his belly. It wouldn't be long for him now.

"Not yet, my darling girl," he denied her.

And then he rolled his hips up into her, driving his cock deeper inside her and causing her to moan.

"Oh, God. Doctor. I can't..."

"Yes you can, Rose. Just a few minutes more. His own cock ached for release but he wanted to see how long he could make her wait.

But it was too much. She came, shuddering, as he moved beneath her, with a sort of strangled sob as she tried even then to hold back the floodgates of sensation.

And with that, the Doctor was overcome. One, two, three thrusts and he exploded inside of her, pulling her back down into his arms and holding her close against him as they both shook from the force of it.

"You are truly amazing, Rose Tyler," he whispered.

She held him tighter and, for a beautiful, shining moment in space and time, the Doctor was happy, loved, and completely at peace.

"How long?" She whispered.

"An hour and... Something," he replied drowsily.

She kissed him softly.

"Kip off for a moment then. I'm not quite done with you yet, Doctor. But you should take a few minutes and close your eyes. Old man like you, needs his rest."

He nodded his sleepy agreement and pulled her even closer, and drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up, he was alone.

Four hours, he realized suddenly. He had slept for four hours.

"Rose?" He called out, but he already knew she was gone.

Sitting up, he found the note on her pillow.

_You're so beautiful when you sleep. So relaxed. Not weighed down like you are most of the time._

_Thank you, Doctor. That was... Thank you._

_It's rude to run off, I know. But this was the only way I don't have to tell you good bye. I don't think I'd ever be able to look at you in the eye and walk away. I hope you understand._

_Please don't be mad at River. Tell her how much I appreciated this. And then please take care of yourself. Don't be alone. I worry when I think of you alone._

_I love you. I really, really love you. And I really hope this isn't the first time I've told you so._

_Yours,_  
_Rose Tyler_

* * *

**Thanks for reading this far, folks. I hope you're enjoying it. :)**

**Just a note, the bit about Susan/Arkytior is actually canon, if you consider Doctor Who novels to be valid sources. Do you think it's purely coincidental that RTD picked the given name of the Doctor's original companion, for his first companion at the show's resurrection? Yeah, me either. **

**One more chapter coming after this, a sort of an epilogue. **

**Your feedback and reviews are always appreciated! **

**xo**

**OA**


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